


A Haikyuu Collection

by blossomatris



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adding tags as I upload, Amputation, Angst, Cute, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blossomatris/pseuds/blossomatris
Summary: Dump spot for Haikyuu one-shots and excerpts from fics I'll probably never get around to writing. And, yes, everyone is g a y.





	1. Family - Bokuaka

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter will contain:  
> \- Bokuto x Akaashi  
> \- mpreg  
> \- miscarriage  
> \- angsty situations  
> \- a happy ending  
> \- 2800 words

**⌜** **Family** **⌟**

**_Bokuaka_ **

* * *

The longest Akaashi had carried a child for was five months. The first time he’d carried a baby boy for twenty weeks before he miscarried. He had carried the dead baby for another week before he went in for his next doctor’s appointment. When the doctor told him and Bokuto that the baby had been dead for quite some time, Akaashi vomited. He was so distraught the surgeons thought it would be best if they put him under completely for the removal of the fetus.

                The second time, he hadn’t carried the baby long enough for them to determine the gender. Seven weeks had only gone by when Akaashi had woken up in the middle of the night with blood coating his lower half. That time had been ten times worse because he had it _all over him._ Akaashi had struggled for a really long time to get back to functioning in his life after that miscarriage.

                And then, there had been about five instances of Bokuto and him properly _trying_ for a baby when Akaashi just didn’t get pregnant.  

                This time though, they had made it to the seventh month. With every passing week Akaashi thought that finally, _finally,_ it was going to happen. It was a baby girl this time, and Bokuto was ecstatic. Akaashi made sure to take all of the precautions. He was taking his vitamins daily; he was eating healthy; he was doing light exercise. Bokuto was constantly checking in on Akaashi. Bokuto wanted this baby girl more than anything in the entire world.

                They were not going to lose this baby.

                Akaashi was terrified still, and he knew he had the right to be. He could remember too clearly the first two he lost. For _months_ afterwards, he couldn’t even get out of bed. He had cried for days straight. He couldn’t eat. He had no idea that losing a child, an _unborn_ one, would hurt so much. The second time had been so much worse and he didn’t think he’d make it through a third miscarriage.

                Akaashi wanted a kid _so_ badly. He wanted a _family;_ something like Daichi and Suga, or Kuroo or Kenma. He wanted that. Bokuto wanted it as well and maybe even more than his partner. After losing the first two, Akaashi thought maybe the universe was trying to tell him that he would be a horrible parent. That he wasn’t _fit_ to have a child.

                Maybe it was selfish of him, trying for another. What if he was just setting up this baby for death too? It _was_ selfish, but Akaashi didn’t _want_ to lose this baby. He didn’t want to see how heartbroken Bokuto would be. Bokuto had tried _so hard_ to stay cheerful through the first miscarriages, but Akaashi _knew_ he was having just as hard of a time. He just wanted them to be happy.

                But they were seven months—almost seven and a half—in. Maybe this was the one. Maybe finally they would get their family. Akaashi hadn’t told Bokuto, but he had already picked out a name. Bokuto was constantly adding things to and adjusting the baby room.

_This was the one_.

                Until… it wasn’t. It was the one until Akaashi went into early labour one day. He had felt his water break and immediately, the world just crumbled around him. _It was too early._ The contractions were too painful and too close together already for things to be okay. And with trembling hands and tearing eyes, Akaashi picked up his cellphone and dialed Bokuto.

                “You need to come home. You need to come home right now. Something’s not ri—“ he was interrupted by a contraction and it squeezed out a sobbing cry from his mouth. “Bokuto, please, please, please,” he cried. “ _Please come home_.”

                When Bokuto arrived, already terrified and frantic, he found his partner on the floor with vomit in front of him. Akaashi’s face was grey, and covered with a sheen of sweat and tears. Bokuto kneeled down and carefully pulled Akaashi into his arms. When he lifted him off of the ground, he saw the blood, and his stomach iced over.

                “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Akaashi cried before tensing up with a contraction.

                “It’s okay, you’re okay,” Bokuto shakily assured. “It’s going to be okay.” They got into the car, Bokuto lying Akaashi down on the backseat. As they raced towards the hospital, he didn’t pull his foot off the gas pedal once. Akaashi had vomited again, and hadn’t stopped bleeding.

                “I have a name for her,” Akaashi panted between laboured breaths. “Yui, I want to name her Yui.”

                “That’s perfect, Keiji,” Bokuto responded, blinking back tears as he rolled to a stop at the front doors of the hospital. “It’s going to be okay. Yui’s going to be our little girl, and she’s going to grow up with the best parents, and everything’s going to work out.”

                Akaashi couldn’t respond between his sobs and contractions. Bokuto helped him into the hospital and immediately two nurses brought a gurney. It was all a swirl of commotion and Bokuto wasn’t aware of anything except for the harsh grip of Akaashi’s hand in his own as they swept down the halls.

                And then they were in a room. A needle was stabbed into Akaashi’s arm and another long one in his rear. A curtain was swept over Akaashi’s chest, separating him and Bokuto from the nurses and surgeons. They were going straight to a caesarean section.

                “It’s too early for her,” Akaashi weeped, tears streaking down his face. “It’s too early. I don’t want to lose another one. It’s too early, Bokuto.”

                Bokuto pressed his forehead down onto Akaashi’s and a couple of his own tears dripped onto his boyfriend’s pale face.

                “Akaashi-san, honey, can you feel the ice?” one of the nurses asked, peering around the curtain.

                “N-No,” he sobbed. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel anything.”

                The nurse looked at Bokuto. “You’ll need to put on a mask, gloves and scrubs on if you want to remain here, Bokuto-san. But we need to begin the operation right away.”

                Bokuto wiped back Akaashi’s sweaty hair and said quietly, “I’ll be right back, I promise. It’s going to be okay. No matter what, you’re going to be okay.” A whole new flood of tears rushed down Akaashi’s face when Bokuto stood up. He could still hear him after he’d left the room and closed the door.

                He went to the front desk to ask for the mask, gloves and scrubs as well as if Hitoka Yachi was working. The woman handed him the items and thought about the question for a moment.

                “She’s not here, but I’m pretty sure that she’s on-call,” the woman replied. “I’ll give her a ring and let her know that you two are here.” The hospital workers knew well enough about Akaashi and Bokuto, and Yachi was always there as a familiar face to calm Akaashi down.

                Bokuto thanked her and took the clothes to the small washroom. Before putting them on, he pulled out his phone and called Kuroo.

                “Hey, hey, hey,” his friend said, picking up on the third ring.

                “We’re at the hospital, Kuroo,” Bokuto told him, no jump in his voice. “Akaashi went into early labour. They’re doing a C-section right now. Can you come?”

                Kuroo sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m on my way right away.”

                “Thanks.” Bokuto hung up and put the scrubs on. He nearly passed out when he returned to the room to see the nurses had the majority of Akaashi’s internal organs no longer being ‘internal’ and rather on some steel trays beside them.

Bokuto steeled himself and returned to his spot on the other side of the curtain, beside Akaashi’s head, and soothingly stroked his hair.

                “I’m so scared,” Akaashi whispered, his voice trembling as his tightened his grip on Bokuto’s hand. “I’m so scared. I did everything right. Why does this happen to me? Why do I kill every single one? _I thought I did everything right. What am I doing wrong?_ ”

                “Shh, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t. I don’t understand why it’s happening to us, but it isn’t your fault.” Bokuto’s chest was so tight it felt like it was going to shatter. Time felt like it was going so slowly.

                Behind the curtain, a surgeon said, “Alright, she’s out! Grab the vacuum! We have to get this stuff out of her lungs!”

                Akaashi covered his mouth with a hand, smothering a sob. “She’s not crying. Why isn’t she crying, Bokuto? Why isn’t she crying?”

                They tiny body in the nurse’s hands was blue. A lump lodged itself in Bokuto’s throat and his head spun. No healthy baby was blue or so small. The world tilted at the loss of a third baby, and Akaashi’s crying melted into the background. Bokuto couldn’t tear his eyes away as the doctor’s tried to bring life back to the tiny infant. He had been so excited for a little girl. He’d turned the baby room into the perfect place for her. And it was just another waste of his efforts.

                _“Uwaa, waaah!”_

                Suddenly, the world straightened and the blue faded from the baby’s body.

                “Oh, god, the _lungs_ on her,” Bokuto whispered at the shrill screaming. He looked down at his boyfriend and laughed, his face breaking into a grin. He laughed again and kissed Akaashi gently, holding his face. “She’s alive,” he said quietly but excitedly. “She’s alive, babe!”

                The doctor’s stitched Akaashi up and they took Yui away to make sure she was going to be okay. She was still premature, but Bokuto couldn’t believe he’d heard the cry of _his baby_. For the first time, he got to hear _his baby cry_.

                Akaashi was given some red Jell-O. Yachi showed up and burst into tears at the news and then she was whisked away to perform her duties. She promised to let them know what was happening with Yui. Once Akaashi was moved from the surgery room to a regular one, Kuroo, Kenma, and their two twin girls showed up. Bokuto cried into Kuroo’s shoulder, still unable to comprehend that _finally_ he was a father. _To his own little girl_. Kenma changed the cold cloth on Akaashi’s forehead while he slept.

                And it didn’t take very long before the news had spread to all of their friends. Bokuto had never been happier in his entire life.

**結**

                “Bokuto-kun?” Yachi peered into the hospital room.

                Bokuto blinked blearily and looked up at her. His heart plunged instantly and his mouth popped open, sucking in a breath. He looked at Akaashi, still asleep. He had come down with a fever almost right after the birth, and at that moment, his face looked waxy in the moonlight.

                “What happened?” Bokuto asked quietly, already feeling his throat close up. _No._

                Yachi’s eyebrows jumped, surprised, and she flapped a hand. “Nothing. She’s perfectly fine. Oh, my god, I’m so sorry for scaring you. She’s perfect. I just want to know if you want to come see her now. You can’t hold her yet; she’s still attached to a bunch of things. But you can come and see her if you want.”

                Bokuto sighed with relief and nodded. “Of course I want to see her.” He kissed Akaashi’s clammy forehead before following Yachi out of the room and down the hall. They entered another room and stopped in front of a small window. In a little see through box was a small baby, hooked up to a dozen wires.

                Tears sprung to Bokuto’s eyes and he tapped the glass. “That’s mine. That’s mine,” he breathed. “That’s my baby. Yachi, I’m a _dad_. That’s my _kid_.”

                He looked at Yachi, who’s face was split into a shining smile. Her eyes glittered and she whispered, “Yeah, she’s yours, Bokuto-san. She’s beautiful.”

                Bokuto couldn’t stop the tears from slipping over his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. He sniffled and covered his growing smile with his hands. No matter how hard he tried, he could not rid his face of the smile. He could imagine them, a family. Him, Akaashi, and Yui. The thought made him giddy and cry even more.

                _Ting!_

_**Kuroo** How’s everything going? Akaashi feeling any better? Little Yui still kicking? _

Bokuto texted back a blurry reply.

                **_Bokuto_** _Everything is perfect. Akaashi’s still feverish and nauseous, but I’m a DAD. We are PARENTS_

He looked over at Yachi. “When can we hold her?”

                “We’re hoping by tomorrow. We can’t let you take her home for another while though. It depends on how good things go, but at the least it’ll be two weeks, maybe three. But she’s already a miracle baby, so I can guarantee you’ll be taking her home sooner than you think,” Yachi said, looking at Yui through the glass.

                “What about Akaashi?”

                “He’ll be free to leave when his fever comes down and the doctors are certain there won’t be any issues with the aftermath of the surgery.”

                Bokuto wiped his face and pushed back his floppy hair. He couldn’t believe that they’d made it through a birth. When he saw the blood, he thought that for sure they’d lost another baby and it felt like he was being dragged into quicksand. He was still shaking from the whole thing, and it had already been nine hours.

                “Bokuto-kun?” Yachi asked, her voice suddenly quiet and unsure.

                He turned his eyes down to her and she traced a finger along the sill beneath the window.

                “There’s a high chance that she might be deaf,” she said, clearing her throat harshly. “When we did the APGAR test, the numbers were _really_ low, which, uh, greatly increases the chances. And between the way the birth went, and the medications we’re giving her right now, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

                Bokuto stared at her. “Permanently?”

                Yachi nodded, still unable to meet his eyes.

                Bokuto’s mouth had gone dry. He looked between his daughter and Yachi, and then quietly asked, “But she’s going to live, right?”

                “Yes. We’ve dealt with worse cases. Aside from the hearing loss and maybe some other minor issues like weight gain and such, I can confidently tell you that’s she’s going to be okay.”

                Bokuto nodded his head and swallowed. “Than it’s fine. As long as she’s healthy, we can deal with her being deaf.”

                “Of course!” Yachi cried, shaking off her anxiety. “And we have sign language courses for you two. And- And I have some books I can lend you. Akaashi and you are going to be great parents. I know it.”

                Bokuto watched his daughter with a wide smile for almost an hour before he returned to Akaashi, still deep in sleep and recovering from the day’s events. While he slept, Bokuto slid onto the bed beside him, being careful as he wrapped an arm around him. Akaashi was clammy and his hospital gown stuck to him like a sheet, but Bokuto had never thought he’d looked so beautiful.

                And he slept.

**結**

                 They took Yui home a month after she was born. Akaashi’s iron levels were still drastically low and the doctor’s prescribed him some supplements, but despite the iron supplements, Akaashi slept most of the time and when he was awake, he was so low on energy that it didn’t take much to exhaust him.

                For the first month and a bit of having Yui home, Kuroo and Kenma, Daichi and Suga, Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi and a few of their other friends rotated bringing meals and just helping Bokuto and Akaashi out. With their help, Bokuto was able to go back to work, and Akaashi could rest.

                As the time went by and Yui quickly developed some small motor skills, Bokuto could tell that she could not hear. Sometimes his heart would sink and he would begin to wonder how they were supposed to handle that. And Akaashi would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying. Sometimes it was because he thought Yui had been born a stillbirth, or because he didn’t believe Yui was real, or because he thought that somehow she had suddenly died.

                Whenever that happened, Bokuto would pull out his phone and show his boyfriend the live feed they had of Yui’s crib. In the mornings, Bokuto would take Yui from her crib and put her in the bed next to Akaashi before shaking him awake. It was the mornings when Bokuto’s heart swelled to much it felt like it was going to burst. The mornings were when it occurred to him that they were a _family_. That it was going to be Yui, Akaashi and him forever. After so many failures, Bokuto finally had his own family.


	2. Twins - Kuroken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain:  
> \- Kuroo x Kenma  
> \- mpreg  
> \- fluff  
> \- crying   
> \- a happy ending  
> \- 3339 words

**⌜** **Twins** **⌟**

**_Kuroken_ ** ****

* * *

 

“Kuroo, please help me,” Kenma grumbled from his place on the couch, trying with no success to get to his feet. Kuroo, on his phone at the counter spun around in his stool and immediately jumped into action. He planted his feet down and held his hands out, grasping Kenma’s own swollen ones.

                “What are you doing?” Kuroo asked. “You can stay sitting and I’ll get whatever you need.”

                Kenma shot his boyfriend a withering glare, breathing heavily with the simple effort of having to stand. “I have to _pee_. _Again_.” He dropped his head down and stepped over Kuroo’s feet, his large stomach bumping into the taller. Kuroo continued holding onto his hands and Kenma gave him an impatient look.

                “You’re beautiful,” Kuroo said, smirking. “Even your pudgy sausage fingers.” As he said it, he lifted Kenma’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the soft skin.

                “I have two of your children pressing into my bladder right now,” Kenma responded coldly. “Can I please go to the washroom?”

                Kuroo let go of him, bending down and bowing his head, sweeping his arms in the direction of the bathroom. “As you wish, my love.”

                Kenma heaved out a sigh and waddled towards the hall. Kuroo watched him until he shut the bathroom door and then spun around and flopped down in the indent in the sofa that Kenma had created. He picked up the remote and starting flicking through the movie options. On the coffee table was a large bowl full of pistachio nuts. Beside the bowl was a generous pile of the cracked shells.

                “I just bought those,” Kuroo mumbled, frowning and snatching the bowl. He cracked open one of the shells and popped the nut into his mouth. Just as he swallowed he heard the sound of vomiting and coughing from the bathroom. He jumped and slid the bowl back onto the table, rushing around the corner to the bathroom.

                “Kenma?” Kuroo rattled the door handle. “Kenma, open the door.”

                There was another gagging sound and then Kenma faintly responded, “I’m just sick, Tetsu. I’m fine.”

                “I’d like to make that decision myself. Let me in.”

                The door swung open and Kenma held a hand over his mouth, looking up at Kuroo. He squeezed his eyes shut and clumsily dropped down in front of the toilet again, heaving up another splatter of half digested pistachios. Kuroo hummed, swallowing back his own nausea, and knelt down. He pulled his boyfriend’s scraggly and unwashed hair away from his face.

                “I want them out,” Kenma sniffled, suddenly slammed with hormones. His body shook as they washed over him. He reached up a shaking hand and flushed the toilet, but he didn’t lift his head. “I want them out, Kuroo. They’re _hurting_ me and I’m sick of them being inside of me.”

                “They’ll be out in less than a month hopefully,” Kuroo said quietly, rubbing Kenma’s back. “You’ve made it this far, so a month will be nothing.”

                Kenma sobbed and fell against Tesurou’s chest. Kuroo looked down at him for a few seconds and then said, “You smell like death, babe. Let’s give you a bath.”

                “I can’t even bathe myself I’m so big,” Kenma cried, a flood of tears washing down his cheeks. “I can’t do _anything_. All I do is sit around all day because I can’t physically move.”

                “You would sit around all day anyways,” Kuroo pointed out.

                “You’re not helping,” the smaller sniffed. He wiped his cheeks and stared blankly at tiled floor.

                Kuroo smiled. “Sorry. Can I please give you a bath though? And then it’s probably time for you and the mini Kuroos to go to bed.”

                Kuroo helped Kenma to the edge of the tub and sat him down. He put a stool in the tub and then stripped Kenma’s oversized shirt off of him. After pulling off his shirt, he lifted him to his feet again and carefully helped him over and over the ledge of the tub. Before Kuroo sat him down, he peeled off his sweatpants and underwear.

                Kenma sat on the stool as Kuroo ran the shower.

                “How’s the temperature?” he asked, running the stream on Kenma’s shins. Kenma rubbed his eyes again and nodded, dropping his hands down onto his bulging stomach.

                Kuroo took off his socks and sat on the edge of the bathtub, putting his feet onto the wet, porcelain bottom and allowing him to easily reach around Kenma. He ran the water over Kenma’s shoulders and down his back, before moving it to his hair and letting it soak the strands.

                Neither of them spoke as Kuroo massaged shampoo into his partner’s hair. Kenma continued to sniffle, but as Kuroo slowly ran his fingers through his hair and across his body as he bathed him Kenma began to calm down. Kuroo watched the soap bubbles run down the drain and the small bathroom smelled of lavender.

                “Can you braid it back?” Kenma mumbled, his eyes closed. “My hair. Can you braid it back?”

                “Of course,” Kuroo said gently. “Just the front pieces?”

                Kenma nodded drowsily.

                “Let’s get you into some pyjamas first, and then I’ll braid your hair and rub some oil on your stomach. Then we can cuddle until you fall asleep,” Kuroo said, squeezing the water out of Kenma’s now soft, clean hair.

                Kuroo helped get him out of the bathtub. Kenma got into a fresh pair of underwear and one of his biggest t-shirts before sitting on his and Kuroo’s oversized bed. Kuroo sat behind him and braided the two front parts of his hair. He tied the two braids at the back of Kenma’s head so they formed a crown around his head. Then Kenma laid down on his back and Kuroo pushed up the shirt over Kenma’s aggressively large pregnancy bump. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the taught skin. Then he reached over and grabbed the argan oil from the bedside table. He dropped a few drops from onto Kenma’s stretch mark scarred skin and slowly started rubbing it in.

                “I can feel them kicking around,” Tetsurou hummed pleasantly, looking down at Kenma’s tense face. His smile faded. “Are they hurting you?”

                Kenma nodded so subtly Kuroo almost missed it. His eyebrows were pulled into a tight scowl and his hands were clasped together so harshly that his knuckles were white. Kuroo ran his hands along Kenma’s sides, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

                “Less than a month,” Kuroo reminded him. “Then I’ll take them and they can put me through hell instead. And I’ll let you stay in bed all day and play your games. But, you’ll have to expect me and the girls to burst in every now and then.”

                Kenma inhaled deeply and rolled his shirt back down over his stomach before wiggling onto his side. Kuroo took that as his cue to wrap his own body around his boyfriend’s and nuzzle his nose into his freshly washed hair. As Kenma tried to relax his tense body, Kuroo ran his hand softly over his stomach.  

                Eventually, Kenma drifted off into sleep, but the two twin girls developing inside of him did not. Each time Kuroo felt a tiny foot kick, his smile grew a little bit wider.

**双子**

Kenma was getting aggressively annoyed with Kuroo by the time the remaining few days of his pregnancy rolled around. Every sound of discomfort he made, Kuroo was immediately there, shouting and asking him if it was time. He refused to leave Kenma alone and was _always_ there, hovering.

                And then Kenma’s due date passed by without any action. Kuroo immediately went into ‘something _must_ be wrong’ mode and tried to convince Kenma to go to the hospital. Kenma held his ground and told Kuroo a million times that nothing was wrong.

                Of course, when Kenma _did_ go into labour, Kuroo was dead asleep. His water had broken sometime earlier in the night and one particularly painful contraction shocked him from his own sleep. A breathless gasp was squeezed from his chest as he felt the contraction grip his midsection like a vice clamp. It felt like his bones were simply going to crunch and shatter under the pressure.

                “Kuroo, Kuroo,” Kenma gasped, clenching his night shirt in his fists. Kuroo snored peacefully. “Tetsurou, _wake up_.” Fear was icing down his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how unprepared mentally he was for this birth. How on _earth_ was he supposed to squeeze two babies out? He didn’t want to imagine how exhausting that would be.

                “Kuroo, wake up!” Kenma snapped, slapping his boyfriend’s back loudly. Kuroo jumped and sat up, looking at Kenma.

                “Oh, oh, my god!” he shouted, flinging the blankets off of his body and springing to his feet. “Oh, my god! Is it time? Oh, god, oh, _god,_ I’m not ready! You stay right there; I’ll go start the car!”

                Kenma watched as he tore out of the bedroom, slapping on the light switch as he went. Kenma looked over to the nightstand on Kuroo’s side of the bed, looking at the car keys that were still sitting there. A few seconds went by, Kuroo swearing loudly from other parts of the house, before he tripped back into the bedroom.

                “You need to calm down,” Kenma said to him, swinging his legs off the bed and planting his feet on the floor.

                “I _am_ calm! I’ve read all the books. I know how to handle this, Kenma. I’m perfectly calm.” He jittered anxiously. Kenma pulled himself into a hunched standing position and Kuroo cried out loudly, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. “You should stay sitting! Oh, my god, they’re going to fall right out of you, Kenma!”

                “No, they aren’t. Just go start the car and take the bags with you please.”

                Kuroo nodded and firmly said, “Don’t you dare move until I get back,” before he ran to the vehicle.

                While he went to start and warm up the car, Kenma waddled to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Then he changed his underwear and put on some sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. As he cleaned himself up for the ride to the hospital, another contraction knocked the breath out of him and he prayed for Kuroo to not enter until it passed by.

                Just as he straightened up, Testurou slammed open the bathroom door.

                “What are you doing?! I told you not to move! We gotta go!”

                Kenma’s eyes flicked down and then returned to Kuroo’s eyes. “Did you just start the car without pants on? Please put some pants on before we go to the hospital at least.”

                “Oh, my god, Kenma!” Kuroo flung his hands in the air. “We don’t have time for pants!”

                “We do. We aren’t leaving until you put some on.”

                Kuroo ripped open his dresser and struggled into a pair of black sweats. Then he snatched one of his sweaters off of a hanger and pulled it over Kenma’s head. It took him a little work to get it over his stomach. Just as he reached the biggest part of Kenma’s belly, another contraction hit him and Kenma groaned, grabbing his boyfriend’s wrists and pressing his nails into his skin.

                “Okay, okay, time to go,” Kuroo said, flustered as he steadied Kenma. “To the car.”

                Slowly, painfully slowly, they got to the front door and then out to the car. Kenma watched Kuroo as he shifted into drive and pressed the accelerator, lurching the car forward and away from the edge of their property. Kenma was thankful that it was the middle of the night and the traffic was low. Not because it would get them to the hospital faster, but because Kuroo was driving like an absolute mad-man.

                And with every bump in the road, or sharp turn, Kenma felt like he was going to explode. By the time they made it to the hospital, Kenma was trembling with the pain in his lower half. Kuroo helped him into the building and nurses and doctors put him into a wheelchair, whisking him down the halls to a room. A doctor gave him a gown and told him they would be back in a while.

                “You’re leaving?! No, he’s giving birth, like, right now! Let’s get these kids out of him before they suffocate!” Kuroo said, grabbing the doctor by his scrubs.

                The man laughed. “We have to wait for the contractions to get closer and larger in intensity together before we can do anything. All we can do right now is get Kozume here comfortable. We’ll have someone check in on you two every now and then.”

                Kuroo let the doctor go and the door clicked shut. Behind him, Kenma grimaced again and then began pulling off the clothes he had changed into less than an hour before. He slipped on the gown and then stepped up on the step-stool, sitting down on the bed.

                “What do you need? What can I do?” Kuroo asked, grabbing Kenma’s hands.

                “You can quiet down,” Kenma mumbled, yawning. “I thought you read the books.”

                “I _did!_ But this is real life now! All of that is bologna,” Kuroo whispered. “I don’t know if I’m terrified or excited.” His eyes widened. “What if I mix them up? What if they look so alike and I can’t tell my own children apart?”

                Kenma gave him a look. “We’ll put bracelets on them or something. Necklaces; hair clips. You’ll know their separate names if they come out identical.”

                “Kenma,” he said in a quiet voice. “But what did we name them?”

                “Haruko and Hisako. Go take a walk or something. Come back when you have your head on straight, Tetsu. I promise, I won’t move from this—ah, ahh—“ he clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, enduring another contraction. When it passed, he finished his sentence. “I won’t move from this spot. When you come back, I’ll be here.”

                Kuroo kissed the tip of Kenma’s nose, holding his face. “Okay. Okay. I’ll go cool down and get some scrubs of my own. If you need anything, _don’t_ just suffer through it. Press the call button, okay?”

                Kenma nodded, and Kuroo left the room. As soon as he was out, he slapped his hands to his face and muttered, “I’m so not ready for this.”

**双子**

At 4:04pm, 15 hours after they’d arrived at the hospital, Kenma was laid down on an incline with his feet propped up, spread open. He had sweat making his hair stick to his face and Kuroo’s hand in his grip. Kuroo was dressed in blue scrubs and had a mask over his mouth. As the contractions got worse, Kenma loudly cursed Kuroo’s hair for looking for god damn awful at such a crucial moment.

                At 4:10pm, the doctor’s started telling Kenma to push. He had a million things strapped to his body and there were more than enough doctors in the room. After the third time pushing, Kenma couldn’t stop himself from bursting into tears, overwhelmed by exhaustion and hormones. Some of the nurses gently encouraged him to keep going, but Kenma didn’t want to do it anymore. His entire body was weak and despite the epidurals, his head was spinning with pain.

                At 5:37pm, Kenma’s face and neck was constantly being wiped of sweat by Kuroo, embarrassing Kenma more than he should have been. He was suddenly too conscious of the strangers standing in front of his spread legs and again. The waterworks began as he mumbled at Kuroo to make them leave.

                At 7:22pm, the contractions were so bad that Kenma thought his pelvis was going to rip apart. The doctors telling him to push every now and then was stressing him out. He wasn’t aware that he was shouting at Kuroo the get his kids out of him. Kenma kept seeing nurses walk away with bloodied towels, making him feel sick.

                At 7:30pm, Kenma was sure these babies were going to kill him.

                At 7:43pm, the nurses and doctors got overwhelmingly excited, enthusiastically telling Kenma to give a good hard push! That this was the one!  And Kenma sobbed, choking back an embarrassing shout as he pushed.

                At 7:45pm, the first baby girl was out. Kuroo was crying happily and saying something to Kenma, but he couldn’t hear anything over the buzz in his ears.

                At 7:52pm, Kenma was given hormones to begin the contractions again, and soon after, the second baby girl was out. Kuroo leaned down and hugged Kenma, laughing and peppering his neck with kisses.

                Finally, at 8:07pm, the two baby girls were brought back into the room, tightly swaddled in white blankets—one blanket trimmed in purple and the other one trimmed in pink. They were laid down on Kenma’s chest, one in each arm. And Kenma started crying again. The two nurses that brought in the babies left, leaving the new family alone.

                “Kenma?” Kuroo said quietly, eyes soft.

                Kenma sniffed and looked up at him. “What?” he asked, voice thick with tears.

                Kuroo looked at the girls and whispered. “They’re identical. This is going to be an issue. What did I tell you?”

                Kenma laughed slightly. “All newborn babies are identical, Tetsu.”

                Kuroo smiled and brushed back some of Kenma’s sweaty hair. “Of course I know that. I’m just messing with you.” He blinked and was quiet for a few seconds. “Are you feeling up to showing off our kids or do you want to rest?”

                “Who’s here?” Kenma asked, looking at him.

                “Don’t look so scared, geez,” Kuroo chuckled. “Hinata and Kageyama, and Bokuto and Akaashi. Lev wanted to come, but Yaku told him that you probably wouldn’t want so many people here. _Especially_ Lev.”

                Kenma breathed in deeply and then let out a long sigh, feeling coated in layers and layers of fatigue. Then he said quietly, “Can I just sleep? You can take them out there and show them off if you want. Just don’t drop them, please.”

                Kuroo slapped a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. “The lack of trust, Kenma! C’mon, hand them over and I’ll let you sleep. I promise they’ll be just as they are right now when you wake up.”           

                He reached down and gingerly picked up the bundles of baby. Then he leaned down again and pressed a kiss to Kenma’s forehead, whispering, “Sleep, kitten.”

**双子**

 The next morning, as they were preparing themselves to leave, Kuroo realized he had only grabbed one baby bag, instead of two. Kenma had to restrain himself from throttling the taller of the two. While Kenma got one of the baby girls, Haruko, dressed in the new clothes and diaper, Kuroo rushed back to their house to bring back the other bag. When he returned and both babies were dressed, they strapped them into the back seat of the car, _finally_ heading back home.

                Kenma curled up in a pile of blankets with a game controller, sat in front of the television while Kuroo took a billion different photos of his new children. When he picked up Hisako, she roused from her sleep and screamed at the top of her lungs.

                Kenma told Kuroo that it was because he had left her naked and afraid at the hospital.

                Kuroo wasn’t surprised, saying, “Hey, I’d be mad at me too if I was fresh out of the womb without something to cover my privates.”

                The first two weeks were quiet and mostly consisted of recuperating and resting. Bokuto and Akaashi stopped by occasionally. Every time, Bokuto would bring something new for the babies. Daichi and Suga stopped by a few times with some already made meals. Hinata and Kageyama came and gave Kuroo and Kenma sugar cookies—which Kageyama had decorated beautifully as DS devices, volleyballs, and baby rattles.

                And, just as Kuroo had warned, he couldn’t keep the two twin girls straight if his life had depended on it.


	3. Invaders - Bokuaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⌜Bokuto and Akaashi are jerked out of sleep by the sound of an intruder.  
> Turns out the intruder is a family of raccoons who have claimed the house as theirs⌟

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain:  
> \- Bokuto x Akaashi  
> \- Mentioned Kuroo x Kenma  
> \- Raccoons  
> \- 1161 words

**⌜Invaders⌟**

**_Bokuaka_ **

* * *

 

            Akaashi jerked awake at the sound of a _CLANG_ and the shattering of glass. He laid, frozen in bed as he tried to understand what he’d heard. He nudged Bokuto, whispering, “Kou… Kou, wake up. I think there’s someone downstairs.”

            A choked snore erupted from him in response. Another loud noise from downstairs. Akaashi reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.

            “Koutarou,” Akaashi hissed. “Wake the fuck up before we get murdered.” He reached over and pinched Bokuto’s nose closed, waiting. After five seconds, Bokuto’s eyes snapped open and he tore away from Akaashi.

            “Wha—“

            Akaashi chewed on his lip and quietly said, “There’s someone downstairs. Go check it out.”

            “Why me?”

            _KSSCHHH._

Akaashi slapped Bokuto’s chest, suddenly feeling scared. “Because you’re the man of the house. Go _look_.”

            Bokuto sat up, eyes sharp as he looked at the door. “Keiji, we don’t have a bat under our bed. What do I use for protection?”

            “I don’t know, fucking spike a volleyball at their head or something. Hurry _up_. What if they’re stealing something? They’re making a mess, that’s for sure.”

            Bokuto unplugged the phone charger from the wall, wrapping it around his hand and crept towards the door. Akaashi, still in the bed, squinted and asked, “What do you plan on doing with that?”

            “Whip ‘em,” Bokuto replied shortly. “Come with me.”

            Akaashi pursed his lips and then slid out of the bed, positioning himself behind his boyfriend, clinging onto the back of his shirt. Slowly, the two of them tip-toed down the hall towards the stairs. There were no lights on and Akaashi couldn’t hear anything through the rush of blood in his ears.

            They reached the stairs and slowly began descending them.

            “Bokuto, turn the lights on,” Akaashi said.

            “The lights are at the bottom of the stairs. How long have you been living here?”

            The moment they reached the bottom of the stairs and Bokuto flicked on the lights—and screamed. Akaashi flinched at Bokuto’s cry, slipping on the step and falling to his rear, bumping into Bokuto and pushing him off the step.

            “What’s the matter!?” Akaashi shouted, irritated. The shock running up his tail bone struck his diaphragm and then suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Bokuto was still shouting.

            “Shoo! Shoo!” Bokuto yelled, flicking his phone charger. “What the fuck!”

            Akaashi grasped his chest, struggling to gather a breath and looked around Bokuto’s legs. Hissing at Bokuto, claws bared, was a raccoon. And in the kitchen, on the table and counter was a whole handful of raccoons.

            “You left the window open!” Akaashi gasped, struggling to his feet. “Stop- Stop fucking whipping it!”

            The mother raccoon turned around and bounded back to her babies. Bokuto grabbed Akaashi, hauling him to his feet. “I didn’t think raccoons would invade!”

            “Bo, we live on the edge of the woods! And our house is a mess! And the window is open!”

            Bokuto shrugged, giving Akaashi a look that said ‘ _Why should I know this would happen?!_ ’. The two stumbled up the stairs and enclosed themselves in their room, Akaashi jumping back on the bed—the island of safety.

            “Call animal control.”

            “Animal control? Fuck them, I’m calling Kuroo,” Bokuto said, already grabbing his phone from the nightstand. “The raccoons can have the house. It’s all theirs. We’re going to crawl out a window and hoof it to Kuroo’s and Kenma’s.”

            Akaashi kept his mouth shut, listening to the chittering and banging of the wild animals in their kitchen. Their landlord was _not_ going to like this. Bokuto held his phone up to his ear, peering out the bedroom door cautiously.

            “This better be good,” Kuroo grumbled irritably.

            Bokuto closed the door. “I don’t know, it might entertain you,” he started. “So, listen, funny story, I left the window open last night—“

            “What the fuck do you want? It’s the middle of the night, just get to the point.”

            “Keiji and I are overrun by raccoons. We need somewhere to seek refuge at,” Bokuto stated.

            For a few seconds, there was silence, and then Kuroo erupted with laughter. He was saying something incoherent and then he began repeating, “Give the phone to Akaashi, lemme talk to him, oh my god, Bokuto!”

            “Hello, Kuroo,” Akaashi said, feeling less and less amused as he grew more and more tired.

            “Keiji… Akaashi… Oh, my god, Bo didn’t smoke anything did he? Do you guys seriously have a raccoon problem?”

            “Raccoons can be very dangerous.”

            Kuroo howled again and in the background Akaashi could hear Kenma moaning complaints at him. Akaashi scowled. Once again, Bokuto and Kuroo were making Akaashi and Kenma’s lives hell. And the raccoons.

            Fuck the raccoons.

            “Tetsurou, can we please just sleep over for the night? They’ve made a complete mess. It’s a mother and her babies, so I don’t want to mess with her,” Akaashi said matter-of-factly. He watched Bokuto attempt to see under the crack of the door.

            “Yeah, sure, sure,” Kuroo laughed. “Oh, man, I can’t believe this. This would only happen to Bokuto and you, holy shit. Holy shit! See you in a few, see you in a few.”

            Akaashi put the phone down and grabbed the duvet cover, pulling it around his shoulders and shivering. Bokuto dragged a duffle bag out from under the bed and started tossing some things into it. Akaashi watched him tiredly. Kuroo and Kenma lived about fifteen minutes away, which could feel like an eternity with raccoons tearing up the house.

            -

            “We’re just going to make a break for the front door, okay? Don’t make eye contact with them. Especially not the babies—you might fall in love,” Bokuto said, grabbing Akaashi’s hand and tugging him to the top of the stairs. “Three… Two… One!”

            Bokuto charged down the stairs, dragging Akaashi down with him. The mother raccoon reared up on her hind legs as they sprinted past and the babies chittered. Bokuto practically crashed into the door as he tore it open.

            At the curb, at the end of the walkway, was Kuroo. He honked and Bokuto slapped Akaashi’s ass, letting him hop in the front seat while he took the back.

            “So, you two have a raccoon problem,” Kuroo said. “What do you plan on doing about it?”

            “Their house now,” Bokuto said. “Let Kenma know we’re your knew roommates.”

            Kuroo grimaced and pulled away from the curb. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening. I love you guys, but Kenma won’t allow that. He barely lets me stay in the house. And I’m paying half of the rent.”

            “I’ll call animal control once we get to your place,” Akaashi said. “Hopefully it’ll be cleared up by morning.” He looked over his shoulder at Bokuto and then turned back to face the front. Kuroo stopped at a stop sign. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as the raccoons are out of ours.”        

            Kuroo shook his head and said, “Never a dull moment with Bo.”


	4. Pills - Daisuga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain:  
> \- Daichi x Suga  
> \- Heavy depression/self harm  
> \- Vulgar language  
> \- Suicide mention  
> \- 1839 words

            The bottle of pills was 200 miles away on the counter of a motel room. Suga hadn’t realized he’d forgotten them until they were fifty miles from home and there was no way he was mentioning it to Daichi. Suga hated discussing it with Daichi. It made him feel _wrong_. Not _normal_. Daichi was perfect and just knowing that Suga was everything but was enough to make him squirm.

            So, no, Suga wasn’t mentioning the forgotten bottle of pills to his boyfriend. His doctor had mentioned trying to come off of the medication before, but Suga hadn’t been so sure at the time. If the doctor thought he was okay to be off his medication, then it couldn’t be so bad that he’d forgotten them. This was his incentive to finally not be dependent on them.

            The first day was fine. Suga had a little bit of a headache, but nothing horrible.

            The second day he felt dizzy, out of sorts, and feverish. There was an inkling of anxiety tickling at his chest and a few intrusive thoughts snuck their way into his head. Again, nothing Suga couldn’t deal with.

            The third day his headache was so bad it felt like his skull was going to split right open. He felt like his iron was low and cried the entire day while Daichi was at work. When he wasn’t crying, he was sleeping. He was still dizzy and any movement made it feel like his body was in the middle of space and had been struck by space debris.

            The fourth day, neither Suga nor Daichi worked. Suga was frustrated, irritable, full to the brim with anxiety and choking on the negative thoughts that were filling his ears. Daichi could see that Suga was irritated and tried to get Suga to talk.

            Eventually, Suga just sort of…

            Snapped.

            “Fuck _off_ Mr. Fucking Perfect! Not all of us can have an unlimited supply of happiness and confidence! I don’t want to talk to you, okay?” Suga bit harshly, spinning on Daichi and sloshing his hot coffee all over his hand and the floor. Suga swore and clenched his jaw, slamming the mug into the sink. It shattered loudly. Suga tore the dish rag off of the oven handle and dropped it onto the floor.

            “Hey, whoa,” Daichi said, blinking in shock. “What’s up? That wasn’t like you.”

            Suga, on his hands and knees mopping up the spill, glared darkly but didn’t look up. “It’s _nothing_. Just go away.”

            “That wasn’t just ‘nothing’. I want you to talk to me.”

            “Oh, my god! I don’t want to talk to you! What do you even want to fucking know? I’m not like you, you know!”

            Daichi knelt down slowly. “I _know_. That’s why I want you to talk to me, so that I can understand what’s going on. I _know_ what you can do when you get like this, but I need to know what’s going through your head.”

            “What?” Suga shouted, clenching the drenched rag in a fist. “What can I do!? Slit my wrists and bleed out in the bathtub? Swallow a handful of sleeping pills? You know that ‘when I’m like this’ I can fucking _kill myself_ without a second thought? I’m fucking tired, Daichi! I don’t give a shit what you think! I’m fucking tired and I want to die! Just leave me alone!”

            “Suga—“

            Suga yelled jaggedly, shaking and tensing his entire body. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don’t want to hear it! It’s the same things every single time! ‘Suga, you know you don’t want to do that’. ‘You have a lot of things to keep you here. Focus on those things’. Yeah, I fucking get it, okay?! I don’t care about that stuff though! I just want to fucking leave!”

            “Okay, I won’t try to help you then,” Daichi said softly, keeping his distance.

            “Oh, yeah, good tactic. Reverse psychology. Like that’s never been tried before. I’ve been to over ten different therapists and doctors, Daichi! I’ve heard it all! I know all the coping mechanisms and ways to bring myself down, but I don’t give a fuck about it! It’s all bullshit! Ten different therapists and doctors and they all say the same thing! I’m fucking messed up! They just don’t want to deal with it!”

            Daichi adjusted his position to something more comfortable.

            “You don’t know what it’s like because everything you do is _perfect_! And don’t you _dare_ ask me to explain what I’m feeling because I don’t fucking know! I never know! I never know what I’m feeling! That’s the fucking thing with it, isn’t it?! What’s making you anxious, Suga? I don’t fucking know! Why do you feel suicidal and depressed all the time? I would let you know if I knew! I don’t! I don’t fucking know!”

            Suga snapped his mouth shut as a sob wormed its way through his throat. He continued to scowl at the rag and smeared coffee, breathing heavily and unevenly.

            “Can I make you a new cup?” Daichi asked, finally speaking.

            Suga nodded his head ever so slightly and Daichi got to his feet, moving around to the coffee pot. Suga remained on the floor, blinking tears from his eyes.

            “You haven’t been taking your pills, have you?” It wasn’t exactly a question.

            “I left… I left them at the motel,” Suga hiccupped, feeling himself come down from his hysteria almost as quickly as it had happened.

            Daichi sniffed and cleared his throat. “I’ll call your doctor for a refill today. Don’t worry about it, okay?” He flicked the on switch on the coffee pot and opened up a drawer, pulling out a dry towel. He knelt down again and wiped up the remaining mess at Suga’s knees.

            “Have you showered recently?” Daichi wondered.

            Suga wiped his eyes and again nodded. “Yesterday.”

            “Okay. You’re okay, yeah? You have the pills so we can avoid things like this, right? You’re okay.” He tossed the towel onto the counter and then grabbed Suga’s wrists gently, turning them upwards and looking Suga in the eye. “And we want to avoid things like this so we can avoid _this_ ,” Daichi said, referring to the scars—all in different stages of healing. “There’s a bigger picture to everything.”

            “I know,” Suga whispered, lowering his eyes.

            “But sometimes it gets overwhelming,” Daichi said, saying what Suga was thinking. “I may appear to be perfect, but I’m susceptible to being overwhelmed just like everyone else. So I might not be able to relate to some things you deal with, but I know what being overwhelmed feels like. I promise, Suga, you’re going to be okay.”

            Suga pulled his wrists back, tucking them into his stomach and looking at his boyfriend. “But what if I’m not? What- What if I go back to how I was at the end of high school?”

            The suicide attempt was still fresh in both of their minds.

            “I won’t let that happen again,” Daichi said quietly. “I swear to you; I’m never going to let things get that bad ever again.”

            Suga’s eyes welled with tears and he closed them slowly, face cracking as he whispered, “I want to hurt myself, Dai. Really, _really_ badly. I want to slit my wrists and bleed out in the bath. But I don’t want to die.” He paused, pressing the back of his hand to his eye. “I just- I just wa-ant to hurt. I want to make everyone hurt. I want to make _you_ hurt, Daichi.”

            Daichi knew. Daichi knew everything. He knew Suga’s off-putting obsession with putting himself through pain, even when he wasn’t feeling depressed. Daichi knew about Suga’s dangerous curiosity with suicide, even when he wasn’t feeling suicidal. Daichi knew Suga’s nauseating desire to make the people around him hurt by hurting himself, no matter who they are. And Daichi was well aware how Suga’s own self-destructive and impending obliteration _terrified_ him, terrified Suga himself.

            “Take a bath. Take a _cold_ bath,” Daichi offered softly. “Once you feel like you absolutely cannot stay in the water any more, I’ll get you some hot chocolate, warm clothes, and a big blanket.”

            Slow everything down, that’s what Daichi always said. Laying submerged in an ice cold bath was always a good alternative to physically hurting himself. The water was cold, he was still putting himself through some degree of suffering, and after about ten minutes his body always stopped shivering, his thoughts numbed, and Suga just slowed down.

            So Suga left Daichi and locked himself in the washroom, slowly stripping off his clothes while the water ran, filling the tub with ice water. While the bath was filling, Suga opened up the cabinet and looked at the box of razor heads. He wiggled one out and crushed the flimsy plastic with a shampoo bottle, picking out the razors. He laid the small, strips of metal on the edge of the porcelain bathtub.

            Then, he stepped in, gasping at the cold. Slowly, Suga lowered himself down until he was sitting. His entire body was tense. With an extended foot, he pushed in the faucet knob and turned off the rush of water.

            Suga submerged himself, clenching his fists as the water rushed over his chest and shoulders and face. He held himself there, underwater, spasms and shivers courses through his veins. He held himself below the surface until it felt like his lungs were going to burst, until his chest felt like it was being torn apart.

            Suga abruptly sat upright, gasping for breath and shivering. He looked at the blades and then sunk underneath again.

            He thought he could do it. He was sure he could do it, but the strumming need eventually won over, despite the ice cold bath. Suga got out of the water once it had turned a faded pink from the blood. As he watched the water swirl down the drain, blood still trickling down his arms, he began to cry. He called for Daichi.

            “I can’t stop, Dai, I can’t help it,” Suga said while Daichi cleaned his arms and got rid of the blades.

            “Yes, you can. I know you can stop. You’ve done it before. You’ve held yourself back before. And this isn’t the worst we’ve come back from,” Daichi said firmly. He finished bandaging Suga’s arms and then pulled him forward into a light kiss. “I have hot chocolate, a box of cookies and a movie set up for us in the living room. I want you to go get into something comfortable and meet me out there.”

            “What are we watching?” Suga asked quietly.

            “I thought maybe we could have a Harry Potter marathon tonight,” Daichi said, smiling. “Is that okay?”

            Suga lowered his eyes and nodded, finally feeling calmed down. He collapsed against Daichi and pressed his cheek to his chest. For a few minutes, they just sat there—Suga letting tears slip over his cheeks, and Daichi holding him tightly, rubbing his back.


	5. Rain - Kuroken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain:  
> \- Kuroo x Kenma, (MINOR Bokuto x Akaashi)  
> \- angst  
> \- serious physical disabilities  
> \- lots of crying  
> \- incomplete ending (might do a two-shot or full story)  
> \- 3689 words

**⌜**   **Rain** **⌟**

**_Kuroken_  ** ****

* * *

 

 

“Good practice today. You all did great. I’m heading out early to pick Kenma up, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” Kuroo said, lifting a hand and waving as he stepped out of the gymnasium. It was finally starting to cool off outside, and the sun was glowing orange, low on the horizon. It smelled like a storm was coming.

            Kuroo texted Kenma as he rode the train into the downtown area, letting him know he was on his way. Kenma hated staying at the therapy centre any longer than necessary, so he would always meet Kuroo down at the doors.

            Just as always, Kenma was there, sitting in front of the automatic doors, clutching the blanket covering his legs. Kuroo smiled at him as the doors slid open for him and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, pushing them away from the building and into the setting sun.

            “How did today go?” Kuroo asked, leaning down slightly to Kenma’s good ear.

            “Bad,” Kenma muttered, pulling his blanket up and pressing it against his mouth.

            “Well, it’s over now until next week, so put today’s session out of your mind. Viva la fuck you, Dr. Yakuzaki. Did you want to maybe see if they can find a different therapist?” Kuroo wondered. He pushed Kenma’s wheelchair out onto the sidewalk, politely saying excuse you to people as they made their way to the station.

            Kenma didn’t answer, and Kuroo began repeating his question, thinking Kenma simply hadn’t heard him.

            “I know what you said,” he interrupted irritably. “And no, it’s not Dr. Yakuzaki. I just don’t… It’s pointless.”

            “Give it time, kitten,” Kuroo said softly; painfully. He left it at that, and just focused on not running over anybody’s toes as he pushed Kenma onto the train, apologizing as people had to make room for them.

            They didn’t speak the rest of the way home. Kenma kept his mouth buried in his blanket and as they rolled up the slight hill up to the house, Kuroo asked him, “Is everything okay?”

            And Kenma slowly shook his head, his shoulders tensing and hitching up to his neck. Kuroo heard him sniffle and he picked up his pace despite how exhausting it was pushing the wheelchair up the hill. He didn’t ask any more questions until they got into the house.

            “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, crouching down in front of Kenma.

            “It hurts,” Kenma whispered, clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut.

            Kuroo’s mouth opened slightly and he looked outside at the greying sky, suddenly piecing it together.

            “Alright, let’s get you laying down and I’ll get some ice packs, and _Advil_ ,” Kuroo said. He leaned forward and Kenma wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck, letting him lift him out of the wheelchair. Kuroo carried him up the stairs to the bedroom and pulled back the covers. He put Kenma down carefully and slid down his sweatpants, revealing the swollen and irritated stumps of Kenma’s legs.

            Kenma whimpered and sniffled, turning his head to the side. Kenma hated looking at his amputated legs and refused to if he could help it.

            “I’ll be right back,” Kuroo said, covering Kenma’s legs with the blanket before he went to get some stuff to help relieve some of the pain. He came back with some _Vaseline_ , two ice packs and cloths, and _Advil_. Kenma was crying heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating.

            “Okay, breathe, breathe… Let’s prop you up.” Kuroo helped sit him up and tucked some pillows behind him. He handed Kenma a bottle of water as well as two tablets of _Advil_. Kenma slowly drank them down. His tears slowed as he sipped on the water and when he was done, Kuroo put the bottle on the nightstand.

            Rain began pattering down on the window outside. Kenma moaned and his head rolled to the side again. Kuroo swallowed thickly, pulling the blankets back again to reveal Kenma’s stumps. He opened the _Vaseline_ and spread it carefully over what remained of Kenma’s legs. The rounded stubs were swollen and had an irritated rash covering them. Kuroo grabbed some bandages out of the nightstand and wrapped them over Kenma’s legs. To top it off, he put ice packs beneath and on top of the ends.

            Thunder rolled across the sky and Kenma groaned again, his face pinched in pain.

            “I’ll text Yaku and tell him I won’t be at practice tomorrow morning,” Kuroo said, pulling the blankets over Kenma’s body. “First thing in the morning, I’ll stop by the pharmacy and get another bottle of oxycontin. For tonight though, we’ll just keep icing it and if it gets too bad I’ll get you a sleeping pill and you can call it an early night.”

            “It feels like my legs are being crushed,” Kenma cried, covering his eyes with his hands. “It feels like the crash all over again. It hurts so bad, Kuro. I want things to go back to normal. I want things to go back to how they were. I want my _legs back_.”

            Kuroo’s chest tightened and he climbed under the covers, spreading a hand over Kenma’s chest.

            “Shh, Kenma, shhh, you’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “It’s going to take some time, but you’re going to be okay. I’m going to make sure of it. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

            “I miss volleyball,” Kenma sniffled. “I miss everybody. I’m so lonely.”

            Kuroo clenched his jaw against the mist of tears blurring his vision. “Well, maybe we can go see them tomorrow afternoon. We’ll go intrude on the practice. We’ll get the pain under control and then go see everyone. They miss you a whole fucking lot too.”

            Kenma took a couple jagged breaths and then croaked, “I want a sleeping pill. I want to go to sleep. I want to stop thinking. Everything hurts so bad. I want to stop thinking.”

            “I’ll get you something and I’ll lie with you until you fall asleep.”

            After Kenma gulped down a sleeping pill, Kuroo slipped one arm beneath Kenma’s head and held him until he fell asleep.

 

           

            Kenma was so doped up on painkillers that Kuroo didn’t even have to talk him out of the anxiety of going to seeing his friends for the first time since the crash. Kuroo made sure that he had his fluffy blanket beneath him on the wheelchair, and his weighted blanket on his amputated legs. He made sure that the pockets on the back of the wheelchair had Kenma’s phone, DS, PSP, chargers, and some games. And finally, before they left, Kuroo made sure he had all of Kenma’s medication and two bottles of water.

            “Where is everyone?” Kenma mumbled.

            “School’s over,” Kuroo answered. “Everyone’s either at clubs or home.” He grabbed Kenma’s shoulder and straightened him. “Geez, don’t fall. Maybe I should see if they can lower your dosage of painkillers. You’re so out of it.”

            “Tired.”

            “Yeah, seriously. I need to seatbelt you in or else you’re going to fall on your face.”

            He rolled Kenma up to the gymnasium, hearing the sound of shouting and squeaking shoes inside. He popped open the door and ungracefully maneuvered Kenma’s wheelchair over the bump.

            Everyone stopped and looked over, faces breaking out into smiles at the sight of their friends.

            “Kenmaaa!” Lev yelled, bounding over on long legs.

            He stopped abruptly seeing the empty space where the bumps of legs would be under Kenma’s blanket. No one had seen Kenma since the crash, and the amputations weren’t quite a reality. But, now it was, and everyone was shocked into silence.

            “Alright, well, let’s not stare,” Yaku chided, walking over. “Hey, we’ve missed you around here. How’re you feeling?”

            Kenma responded with something incoherent, rubbing an eye. Kuroo looked down at him and said in his good ear, “Yaku asked how you’re feeling.”

            “Fucking awful,” Kenma answered, opening his eyes and looking at his old teammates. “Don’t stop practice for me. I… wanted to watch.”

            “Oh, well, alright, sure,” Yaku said, smiling warmly. Then he turned around and shouted, “Make some teams! We’ll do a practice game.”

            Kuroo wheeled Kenma next to the benches and sat down beside him, looking over at him. The bags beneath Kenma’s eyes were deep and dark, and his eyes were dull. His lips were dry, cracked and flaky. He had acne covering his chin and cheeks.

            Kuroo reached into the side bag of the wheelchair and pulled out a container of loose lip moisturizer. He opened it and passed it to Kenma, instructing him to put some on. Kenma simply sighed and passed it back.

            “Kenma, your lips are falling off,” Kuroo said.

            “I’m watching volleyball.”

            Yamamoto tossed the first serve. Kuroo scooped some of the moisturizer onto his finger and smeared it over Kenma’s mouth. Every now and then, the players on the court would look over, still trying to adjust to their friend. It had been three months since the crash, but it felt like it had happened years ago. It seemed like it was years ago since they received the news that Kenma was in the hospital in critical condition.

            Kuroo fixed the weighted blanket on Kenma’s legs and put the moisturizer back in the bag. He felt Kenma’s arm, chewing on his lip as how cold his skin was. It wasn’t cold outside by any means, nor was it cold in the gym.

            “Are you feeling okay? Are you cold?”

            Kenma shook his head, brushing Kuroo off irritably. He wiped off the excessive moisturizer on his lips and said quietly, “Please, don’t baby me. I want to pretend things are normal right now.”

            “Okay,” Kuroo said. “I just want you to be comfortable and okay.”

            Kenma turned his face away from Kuroo, pretending to be focused on the team on the opposite side of the court. Kuroo sighed and watched the rest of the practice in silence.

 

 

            It was raining again and Kenma was bundled on the sofa, moaning in pain while Kuroo made supper. They’d gone to the doctor about the pain and the swelling, and he’d prescribed a numbing cream to help the swelling and pain, but most of the pain that Kenma was feeling was deep in his bones. Kuroo gave him as much oxycontin as he safely could, but nothing seemed to help. There was nothing _he_ could do to help either.

            “He’s been in lots of pain, huh?” Bokuto asked, munching on a bag of chips.

            Kuroo nodded, stirring the stir fry.

            “Gloomy weather makes it worse?” wondered Bokuto, looking into the living room at Kenma’s bundled form. Akaashi was sitting on the floor beside him, trying to distract him from the pain by watching stupid cat videos.

            Kenma wasn’t really watching though. He just clung to Akaashi’s hand, squeezing tightly when the pain flared, his eyes shut tightly. Eventually, Akaashi turned off his phone and laid his head down next to Kenma’s, squeezing his hand back.

            “How long will he be in pain like that?”

            Kuroo shrugged helplessly. “The doctors say it could be years. It might get better in the daytime within a year, but it flares at night and that might never go away.”

            Bokuto studied his friend. “How have you been holding up? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

            “I _haven’t_ ,” Kuroo grumbled. “But Kenma hasn’t slept in weeks, so I can’t complain.”

            Bokuto put his chips down and said, “Sure, you can. Let Akaashi and me watch Kenma for a few days. Or even just a few nights if that’s better for you. But dude, you need to sleep.”

            “So does he,” Kuroo argued weakly, flapping his arm towards the living room. “Nothing’s working. The painkillers make him so _sick_ ; he vomits it all out of his system. And the sleeping pills don’t do their job well enough. They wear off after, like, two hours.”

            Bokuto looked back into the living room, just catching Akaashi nuzzle behind Kenma on the couch, hugging him tightly. Kenma was crying and shaking, clinging onto Akaashi’s arms.

            “Let us take Kenma for a few days, Kuroo. It’ll be good for him to have a change of scenery for a bit. You can catch up with your school work and sleep. And look, Akaashi’s good for Kenma.” Bokuto showed Kuroo the two on the couch, Kenma still crying, but not so heavily anymore.

            Kuroo stared at the two, swallowing. Akaashi reached over Kenma and grabbed the cold cloth, pressing it against Kenma’s splotchy cheeks. In a few minutes, Kenma’s tears staggered to a stop and he laid there sniffling. Kuroo turned back to the stove.

            “Just for a few days,” Kuroo said. “But he needs help with _everything_.”

            “Of course,” Bokuto said. “I know what to do. And Akaashi will be there. If we need you, I’ll call. I promise.”

            Kuroo nodded and spooned a little bit of stir fry onto a plate, putting it on a tray with a glass of water and two pills. Bokuto spooned up three more plates.

            “Kenma, do you want to eat at the table?” Kuroo called.

            Akaashi repeated the question for Kenma, and then called back his response for Kuroo.

            “He’ll eat at the table,” Akaashi said.

            “Alright, I’ll come get you,” Kuroo said. He walked to the living room and carefully scooped Kenma up into his arms. Kenma had never been very heavy, but without the bottom half of his legs and spending so long in the hospital, Kenma was below one hundred pounds now. The medication made him nauseous and more often than not, he threw up whatever he ate.

            “Bokuto, can you pull up that chair?” Kuroo asked, nodding towards the padded chair in the corner. Bokuto slid it up to the table and Kuroo put Kenma down, apologizing as Kenma mewled in pain. Kuroo slid his chair in.

            “Can I have another painkiller?” Kenma quietly asked.

            “Not yet,” Kuroo responded. “I’ll give you one before bed. It’s too early yet.” He put Kenma’s tray of food down in front of him. “Anxiety and a multi-vitamin for now though. Take them after you eat.” He checked his phone. “And I’ll change your bandages after we’re done eating. Have they been hurting lately?”

            Kenma nodded silently, his bone thin arms holding him up on the table.

            Over the next hour, they had quiet conversation over their food and tried not to be too worried or in Kenma’s face when he would whimper or bite a fist in pain. Kenma was eating slowly, and almost finished what was on his plate, but didn’t manage to before he burst into tears again, saying quietly, over and over, “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

            Akaashi and Bokuto said they would clean up while Kuroo laid Kenma back down on the couch to check on his skin grafts. He pulled down Kenma’s sweatpants and peeled off the bandages on Kenma’s hip, thigh and the side of his butt. The large patch of skin was irritated and red against Kenma’s pale leg. It was ugly and looked Frankenstein-ish, and was yet again something that Kenma fiercely refused to look at himself.

            “I’m going to go wash my hands and get the cream quick, okay?” Kuroo said, covering Kenma’s modesty with the blanket on the floor. Kenma hadn’t been able to wear underwear or anything tight on his hips because of the graft.

            When Kuroo came back, he spread the cream over the graft gently and then put new bandages over the area. He put Kenma’s sweatpants back on him, his hands lingering on his skin for a few seconds. It was cold— _freezing_ —to the touch.

            “Do you want your weighted blanket? It might help you relax a little,” Kuroo offered.

            Again, without a word, Kenma nodded. Kuroo went to the entrance and grabbed the blanket, spreading it over Kenma’s body. Then he kneeled down and brushed some of Kenma’s hair out of his face, taking in his pimple covered face.

            “Bokuto and Akaashi are going to take you home with them tomorrow. Just to give me time to catch up with school, but if you need anything, I will be there in a heartbeat. But Akaashi is there for anything, and Bokuto’s great as well. Is that okay with you?”

            “I guess so,” Kenma whispered.

            Kuroo nodded and kissed Kenma’s forehead. “I’ll get some ice packs for your legs, and then I want you to try to sleep, okay? I’ll get some of your stuff packed up for you.” He put the ice packs on Kenma’s legs and then turned off the lights, going into the kitchen where Bokuto was washing dishes while Akaashi dried.

            “Okay, so, Kenma can’t sleep alone,” Kuroo said. “He gets nightmares and he just… I don’t like him sleeping by himself.”

            “Sure, yeah,” Bokuto said. “That’s fine. Our bed’s big enough for him. He’s just little.”

            Kuroo dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands, feeling a wave of tears hit him. “Thanks,” he said in a choked voice. He stared at the table, trying to breathe through the blurring tears in his eyes. Bokuto and Akaashi were quiet, letting Kuroo cry out all the built-up stress on his shoulders.

            He cried for a few minutes and then wiped his face off, telling the two he would go get Kenma’s things together and leave it at the front door for them. So, he went to his and Kenma’s bedroom, throwing things into a bag. He made sure he had Kenma’s support pillow, his medication, his bandages and creams, and his games. Except, lately, Kenma hadn’t been playing. He couldn’t focus on anything longer than thirty seconds because of the dull ache.

            “Bokuto?” Kuroo called, trotting down the stairs.

            “Yeah?”

            “I usually give him a sponge bath at the end of the day; being clean helps him sleep a little better. And make sure he’s moving around, and not just lying in bed all day. He’ll get bedsores. And if it’s not too much to ask, take him for a walk so he gets some fresh air. And he has to drink lots of water.”

            “Kuroo, relax, he’ll be okay,” Bokuto said. “We know all this. He’ll be okay.”

            Kuroo looked at him in the living room, tearing skin off the inside of his lip. “I know. I know, I’m just worried.”

 

 

            The sponge bath was harder than Bokuto anticipated. He made sure to put three towels beneath Kenma on the bed, and one on top of him to give him at least a sliver of privacy. Bathing Kenma was easy enough but keeping the water from getting everywhere was another issue. Bokuto was grateful that Kuroo had washed his hair the night before.

            Bokuto washed Kenma’s chest, arms, face, and neck then went to go change the water.

            **_Bokuto_** _do I have to wash the like between leg area_

_**Kuroo** y e s_

Bokuto poked his head into the kitchen where Akaashi was working on homework.

            “Hey, you want to finish Kenma off?”

            Akaashi blinked. “Why?”

            “Kuroo says we have to do…” Bokuto waved his hands in circles over his crotch and rear. “Also, I’m scared to wash his legs.”

            Akaashi sighed and got up. He washed his hands thoroughly before following Bokuto the bedroom. Bokuto handed the cloth to his boyfriend, and Akaashi washed Kenma’s good hip before gently rolling Kenma over onto it. He quietly scrubbed Kenma’s back and when he moved down to his bottom, Kenma began to cry.

            Akaashi paused. “Am I hurting you?”

            Kenma shook his head, but didn’t say anything, so Akaashi cautiously continued. He quietly apologized as he cleaned between Kenma’s legs, trying to block out Kenma’s crying.

            Akaashi couldn’t help the suffocating empathy that filled his lungs whenever he helped Kenma. Since the crash, Kenma no longer had any privacy with anything. He couldn’t do 90% of human functions by himself and Akaashi couldn’t even begin to imagine how horrendous it would be to have to have someone help you go to the bathroom, shower, dress, etc. Kenma was a private person, just as much as Akaashi, but that didn’t matter anymore.

            “I’m done,” Akaashi said quietly, laying Kenma on his back again, covering him with the towel. “I’ll get you some clothes.”

            “Here, Keiji,” Bokuto said, passing Akaashi some pyjama pants. Akaashi thanked him and jimmied the pants over Kenma’s hips. Just like he’d seen Kuroo do, Akaashi tied off the pants where Kenma’s knees would have been.

            Bokuto passed him a t-shirt as well. Once Kenma was dressed, Akaashi had Bokuto lift him off the bed so he could clean up the towels and everything else. When he was done, Bokuto put him down again so he was sitting up, resting against a stack of pillows.

            Akaashi placed a small bowl with water, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush beside Kenma on the bed. “Brush your teeth and through your hair a bit, and I’ll get your medicine.”

            Akaashi washed his hands again, slowly, staring at the bubbles as they ran down the drain.

            Bokuto came up behind him, wrapping his hands around his waist and resting his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder.

            “Are you okay?” Bokuto asked.

            “Of course,” Akaashi answered, blinking himself out of his daze. “I’m just thinking. Did he seem alright to you?”

            Bokuto shrugged. “Alright as always, I suppose. He’s just tired.”

            Akaashi dried his hands off and went back to the bedroom, turning lights off as he went. Bokuto followed behind him. Kenma took his medicine, and Bokuto and Akaashi got themselves ready for bed.

            Then, the three of the all climbed into the bed. Akaashi hugging Kenma to his chest, and Bokuto hugging Akaashi to his chest. Akaashi was awake fifteen times throughout the night soothing Kenma back to sleep. Every half hour, Kenma would jolt awake again, already in the edge of a panic attack.

            When Akaashi asked what he was dreaming, Kenma would say the crash every time.


End file.
